


A Placid Ecstasy

by Hannibalsimago



Category: Druk | Another Round (2020), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Jagten | The Hunt (2012), Rejseholdet | Unit One
Genre: Angst, Do not post/copy to another site, Drinking, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Hannibal Extended Universe, Multi, OneDrukHunt, Soccer Field shenanigans, Threesome - M/M/M, mention of homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/pseuds/Hannibalsimago
Summary: "People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a placid ecstasy, and ease of heart, that are like honey on the tongue. They also know that the real glory of dreams lies in their atmosphere of unlimited freedom."  quote by Isak Dinesen, famous Danish authorMartin is struggling, coping on his own after the events of the last year. He keeps himself to himself socially. That is, until he meets the new substitute teacher who takes Tommy's place as coach at the school where he works.Will Martin's grief and demons keep him from making new friends? Or will he succumb to a Danish stranger's charms?
Relationships: Martin/Allan Fischer/Lucas
Comments: 17
Kudos: 30





	A Placid Ecstasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@lecterbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40lecterbabe).



> This work is being gifted to @lecterbabe who when I told them the idea - immediately and enthusiastically shouted at me that this needed to be a THING. 
> 
> Thanks go to @purplesocrates, my constant support, who beta'd this and offered insightful comments and so much help with the development of this. She makes my writing (and my life) better. All my hugs and so many thanks to you.

After the “experiment” (as he thought of it, always with quote marks), Martin is better at being mindful and present in the moment. Things with Anika are cordial but still remote. It was going to take some time and work from both of them. Martin understands and accepts the fact. It doesn’t make coming home to a barren home any easier. The long nights in his bed are the worst. He aches for a gentle touch, a kind smile, a warm body to cuddle up to.

He pushes the thoughts away and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading off to school. As he parks his bike, he joins the swarm of students and teachers heading into the building. He catches sight of Nikolaj and Peter, nodding a greeting to them. He still has moments where he misses Tommy. He’s sure that feeling would never entirely diminish. They had been too close friends for that to happen. 

Martin hears a familiar voice. One of his students asks to meet later on during recess about the upcoming history assignment, and he agrees, any ruminations about Tommy dispelled.

In a bizarre coincidence, the school found a substitute sports teacher named Lucas, a sandy-haired bespectacled man who could have passed for a younger version of Martin. Because of this, Martin deliberately stays away from the football pitch and distances himself when they are both in the teacher’s lounge. As if looking in a mirror, he’s afraid to fall into his old destructive patterns, thinking of his lost Ph.D. and discarded research goals. 

The morning passes uneventfully, and the three friends sit in the lounge eating their lunch. Nikolaj and Peter are quite animated. “Martin, you have to attend,” enjoins Peter.

“Bad form not to. It’s the biggest match of the year so far. You heard the rektor, mandatory attendance for the game this afternoon,” nags Nikolaj.

Martin bit into his egg salad sandwich. He knew he had to attend, but he couldn’t help but feel it was a betrayal of Tommy. It may have been irrational, but these feelings were just below the surface, like the sting as a scab is pulled off a wound, leaving it sore and exposed. Despite his misgivings, he understands the political expediency of attending the event. Resigned, he raises his hand half-heartedly with a thumbs-up gesture as he chews, ignoring the pats on his back from his friends. 

At the end of the school day, Martin grabs his book bag and follows the rest of his class out onto the football field. It’s turned into a lovely day, full of sunshine with clear blue skies. Martin’s attitude improves watching the students climb onto the bleachers and hearing the school band tooting away in a passable semblance of the school song. He notices Lucas giving a last-minute pep talk to the team. The referee blows his whistle, and the teams take to the field.

As the game commences, Martin is surprised at how well the team is playing, cohesive and disciplined, but the students’ sheer confidence impresses him the most. Under Tommy’s direction, games had been hit-or-miss, mostly miss, truth be told.  _ The students would do anything for him, the new coach, Lucas,  _ he thinks as he observes the interaction between the team and Lucas. 

Initially, the opposing team performs as anticipated by scoring within the first five minutes of play. Lucas doesn’t give up. He uses gentle reminders and code words to remind players of lessons emphasized from the practice sessions, much like a bike with training wheels. Above all, he trusts each student, trusts them to be adaptive, flexible. He allows them to make their own mistakes and learn from them, as a parent does by taking their hands off the bicycle seat and let the child find their balance on their own. At first, the gameplay was wobbly, to be sure, but it did wonders for the team’s confidence. 

Despite the disparity of the score, the students are just as ebullient, actively supporting each player no matter their position on the field. The plays chosen and executed are cohesive, with a fluidity, almost echoing a dance sequence, and Martin recalls his own experiences performing on stage.

Despite their best efforts, the other team pulls ahead. It seems like an insurmountable three-zero lead for the visiting team at halftime. Martin converses with Peter and Nicolaj during the interval, and he doesn’t notice a new face on the sidelines until Lucas called out “Fischer!” breaking out in a huge smile while he nudges his glasses into place with his thumb. 

Martin is startled to see how similar the two men’s facial features are.  _ The physical likeness is astonishing.  _ He doesn’t want to admit to himself how captivated he is. Somehow, the addition of the new man doesn’t raise in Martin the same feelings as when it’s just Lucas and himself. It feels as if he watches Lucas through the new man’s eyes. - _ He’s not nameless. He has a name. Fischer.  _

The referee whistles for the start of play in the second half, and the noise brings Martin out of his reverie. The turnaround for Lucas’ team is nothing short of astonishing. It’s a confluence of resilience, a force of character, and luck. It’s the most spectacular comeback that Martin has ever seen. The center forward leads the way on a header to cut the gap. She fires a powerful low shot to bring the score to two to three.

Then one of the most beautiful and inspiring sequences of moves that Martin has ever seen occurs. One of the younger, less-skilled players breaks away, captures the ball, heads downfield, and pulls off the most improbable of goals that equalize the score. Both sequences of moves happen within the first twenty minutes of play. 

The homestand erupts, and Martin can’t help but be caught up in the frenzy. He leaps in the air ecstatically, both hands punching the air above his head as he yells and hollers his delight. 

The opposing team tries to make a few attempts at a comeback, but it seems as if all their skill, their confidence drained away at the upset. The center midfielder fires another low shot past the opposing goalkeeper to give the home team a lead as improbable as unexpected. The opposing team all but give up any attempt at attacking as the clock ran out to end the match.

It is a heart-stopper of a game, a joy to behold. Students spill onto the field in a frenzy of excitement. Martin has a sudden urge to find Lucas and congratulate him. Peter and Nikolaj melt away in the dusk but not before Nikolaj clasps Martin’s hand and pumps it in a hearty handshake. “See? You should come to the games more often!” Nikolaj jokes. 

Martin stretches and makes his careful way down the bleachers. Once he reaches the bottom, Martin looks around for Lucas, but the pitch is empty by now. Shouldering his book bag, he decides to head back to his bike, taking a shortcut and crossing under the bleachers. Mindlessly, Martin walks, remembering the key portions of the game, not looking where he’s going when he’s brought up short by an unexpected noise, a sensuous low moan. It’s darker under the bleachers, and he is unable to distinguish any shapes. In the gloom, everything dissolves into the myriad upright supports. _Amorous_ _teenagers!_ He stops himself from sighing and steps forward to chide the oblivious students’ passionate embrace. 

To his surprise, it’s not two students that he discovers. Lucas and his unfamiliar friend - _ lover? _ -are leaning against one of the upright supports. Lucas’s hair is mussed, and his glasses have been removed. His companion, Fischer, is burying his face in Lucas’ neck, and his hands clasp Lucas’ hips as he grinds against him. 

This pulls a heated whimper from Lucas “Allan! Fuck!” 

Martin shifts to leave, his face hot with embarrassment as his bookbag slithers off his shoulder, and the thermos inside knocks against something as he moves to prevent it from hitting the ground. Both Lucas and Allan open their eyes at the sound. 

“Like what you see? Wanna join?” asks Allan playfully as he grinds against Lucas again. 

His face blushing, the blood pounding in his ears, Martin stammers an apology and stumbles out from the bleachers before running to his bike. He doesn’t hear Lucas calling his name, doesn’t see the couple attempt to follow him in the gloaming, 

____________________________

Over the weekend, Martin tries not to think about what he saw and heard. It’s none of his business, he tells himself. However, at the most inopportune times, he remembers Lucas’s blissful expression, hears Allan’s invitation, and feels his face grow hot.

That following Monday morning, Lucas crosses the teacher’s lounge to speak with Martin as soon as he enters the room. He pulls Martin aside in a discrete corner and says, “I apologize for my behavior on Friday, Martin. Will you allow Allan and me to meet you for a coffee this afternoon after work, say five pm? At Paludan. My treat, of course.”

Martin hesitates and prepares to refuse, but Lucas continues, “We both tried to call you, follow you on Friday, but you were gone. Please, Martin.” 

Lucas is so earnest, coupled with the thought of him following Martin in the dusk. It does something to Martin, pulls at him. He pushes away the few misgivings he has and nods his head yes just as the bell rings for first period. 

That afternoon, Martin pedals his bike to the cafe. As he finishes locking it up outside, he hears his name called and looks up to see Lucas striding forward with Allan a few steps behind. 

“Thank you so much for coming, Martin. Let me get us seats, and I’ll introduce you. It’s bustling this time of day.” says Lucas. 

Lucas opens the cafe door allowing Martin to enter first. He is awed by the stunning space with multiple dining halls and book-lined shelves wherever he looks.  _ It feels like walking into someone’s living room.  _ Allan leads them to a discrete corner tucked in an alcove where they take their seats. 

“Martin, let me start off by properly introducing you to Allan Fischer. Allan is a detective in the police travel unit. I guess you could call us an item. Allan, this is Martin. He teaches history where I work.” 

“Lucas is too polite to tell you that I’m an impulsive bastard at times. It was inexcusable for me to say to you what I did. I travel quite a bit in my job, and I’m gone more often than I’m home lately, given the case we are working on. I’ve been away in some god awful corner of this country for the past two weeks. Last Friday was the first time I saw Lucas in as long. Simply put, I missed him terribly. It doesn’t excuse my juvenile behavior but explains what we were doing under the bleachers. Despite what you might think, I wasn’t going to ravish him then and there. I do have some standards.”

Martin raises an eyebrow at this as Allan continues, “Let me get you something to drink. What would you like, Martin? Coffee, tea, juice? Something to eat? Lucas, you’ll want your usual, correct?” Lucas nods, and Martin asks for a coffee. Allan leaves to take care of the orders.

“He seems like quite a character, your friend.”

“Yes, he can be impulsive and emotional, but he’s been through a lot. He’s saved a lot of lives. Despite his rough edges, his persistence and intelligence produce results. He’s highly valued as a team member. My apologies. I don’t mean to be abrasive, but he doesn’t sing his own praises enough. And I tend to be protective of him.”

Allan returns with the drinks, sets them down, and takes a seat, saying quietly, “We are protective of each other. Long-standing habit.” 

Martin reddens and says, “It’s my turn to apologize. I shouldn’t let my own difficulties color how I see other relationships.”

“Is it -” asks Allan, pouring the sparkling water.

Martin interjects, “Because you’re homosexual? Of course not.”

“Actually, we are both bisexual but right now, monogamy suits us just fine,” interpolates Lucas.

Martin blushes with embarrassment and replies, “Oh! I am sorry! I hope I didn't offend you. You invited me here to apologize, and in return, all I can do is say something tactless to both of you. I should leave.”

Lucas reaches out and places his hand on Martin’s arm. “Please don’t. We promise to behave.”

“Absolutely. Best behavior” says Allan trying his best to look angelic.

Lucas looks at him and chuckles, “I bet you say that to Ingrid all the time.” Lucas looks at Martin and explains, “his superior officer.”

Martin allows himself a small smile and picks up his coffee cup. It smells heavenly, and his stomach growls.  _ I hope that wasn’t audible.  _ He sips at his cup and sighs in contentment.

“Good, huh?” says Allan. “I ordered some snacks. Nothing heavy. Should be arriving soon.”

Lucas sips his tea, and all of them are quiet for a few moments, relaxing in each other’s company. Martin watches Allan reach his arm around Lucas and cup his opposite shoulder, caressing it. Lucas makes a contented sound and moves in closer to Allan. It’s tender and sweet, and the sight pierces Martin’s heart. He can’t help the prickle of tears and runs his hand across his eyes.  _ Time to deflect,  _ Martin thinks. 

“I’ve not been here before. Is it a real bookshop?”

“Oh, yes. Allan introduced me to it. He’s been coming here for years. Knows all the best nooks and crannies. I was passing by your classroom, and it sounded like quite a spirited discussion you were engaged in with your students.”

Martin chuckles, thinking of how his teaching style has changed for the better. “We are studying World War II right now. I asked them to vote for which type of leader they choose based only on a few of their salient characteristics. In the end, the whole class voted for Hitler.”

A waitstaff arrives with a plate of assorted cheeses, crackers, nuts, and rye bread, as well as utensils and napkins. Allan picks up a piece of rye bread and smears it with some soft cheese, handing it to Martin.

“Go on. You’re my guest. You look hungry. I can always order more.” 

“Thank you.” As Martin bites into the bread and cheese, his mouth waters, and it’s all he can do to bite back a moan at how good it is. 

Allan glances at Lucas. Martin sees the exchange of looks that pass between them, but he hasn’t learned their body language, mannerisms, and unsure what any of it means, he dismisses it. And honestly, he’s too busy trying not to wolf down his snack. Before he knows it, an assortment of cheeses spread on either rye bread or crackers has been arranged before him. Allan stands up from the table and carries the nearly empty tray back to the counter. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a pig,” says Martin sheepishly.

‘You are not! You are one of the most polite people I know. Allan is very good at taking care of people.”

Martin doesn’t know why, but the statement makes him blush. He nibbles a cracker smeared with something similar to a buttery Gorgonzola.

“What was your impression of the game on Friday, Lucas? Have you always been a coach?” 

“I was quite proud of them, the way they pulled together in the second half. No, I’ve taught lots of places, lots of different subjects. How about you?”

Just then, Allan arrives with a tray of open-faced Smørrebrød and is greeted with smiles from both men. As they talk, joke, and eat, Martin finds himself warming to them both. 

Later, as he’s riding home, he is surprised to find himself humming a jaunty tune. As he’s brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, he reflects on the fact it’s one of the most pleasant evenings he’s experienced lately. It’s the first time in a very long while that he drifts off to dreamless, untroubled sleep. 

Over the next few months, the three of them meet at least once a week, usually during the week but sometimes also on the weekends. They enjoy darts, trivia contests in cafes, trips to art museums, and sometimes go hiking or fishing. Martin enjoys their company, and the three of them fall into an easy camaraderie. He struggles not to stare when Allan and Lucas share a casual embrace, a brief caress, or a respectful kiss hello. He castigates himself for wanting more and tells himself everything with Anika will be resolved soon. 

One week, Lucas proposes something new. “You should let Allan and I come over, Martin. We’ll bring dinner,” says Lucas.

Martin cocks his head and looks at the two men in front of him. 

“I can cook. I vow,” promises Allan, who looks so earnest that Martin laughs.

“Is he for real?”

“Oh, yes. Honest to Pete,” affirms Lucas. 

Martin shakes his head, and the dinner arrangement is set for Saturday evening. 

True to their word, at six-thirty, Martin’s doorbell rings. He goes to the front door and opens it. Allan is carrying a casserole dish, and Lucas has a small shopping bag. Martin invites them inside, trying to get Allan to hand over the covered container. Allan refuses, and Martin settles for leading them into the austere kitchen. 

Once the casserole is heating in the oven, Martin takes them both on a tour of the house’s main areas, which are still bare of photos, tchotchkes, and devoid of any personal items. Much of the furniture is gone, with only a sofa and coffee table left in the living room. 

As he shows the two men around his house, Martin is angry with himself for not changing anything since Anika, and the boys left. He’s worried what the two of them will think of him, afraid of slipping back into destructive patterns. It’s been a long time since he saw his living space through new eyes. 

Allan leaves to finish cooking in the kitchen while Lucas watches Martin intently. “Do you mind if I sit down?” asks Lucas gesturing to the sofa.

“I’m such a bad host! Of course not. Please make yourself comfortable.” says Martin as he also sits on the sofa.

Lucas tries to put Martin at ease. “You aren’t a bad host, Martin. You’ve made a renewed commitment to your students. Many of the teachers heap praise on you when you aren’t around. They cite your grades and how well the students are doing on their comprehensive exams. I’m a teacher. I understand the pressures that come with the job. Especially when a teacher cares deeply about their students.” 

Lucas reaches out to him, the man's hand hovering over Martin’s shoulder for a moment, unsure, before finally touching. The contact is brief, though, as Martin cannot help but flinch, surprised and unused to touch. Before he can appreciate the warmth, Lucas removes his hand. A small, helpless sound escapes Martin’s lips, and he grasps Lucas' fingers keeping them in place, leaning into the touch.

  
  


“It’s all right, Martin. Let me do something. You’re very tense.” observes Lucas. “Sit this way. Yes, back facing me. That’s good.” Lucas slips off his shoes as he speaks, keeping one hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute,” Lucas whispers in Martin’s ear. Another shudder goes through Martin’s body.

Lucas gets up from the sofa and climbs back on, kneeling, facing Martin’s back, gently grasping both of Martin’s shoulder blades, and begins to massage them through Martin’s flannel shirt. 

Martin melts into Lucas’s touch, small noises escaping from his lips. Lucas continues to massage Martin’s neck, shoulders, and upper arms. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting touch, Martin. It’s a necessity. You’ve been neglecting self-care.” murmurs Lucas. 

He hears Allan’s footsteps and looks up at him as Allan stands in the doorway, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, watching the two of them, seemingly unperturbed by the scene. Allan just smiles softly, encouragingly at him before slipping off his shoes, leaving them next to Lucas’s at the side of the sofa, raising an index finger when Lucas looks at him, intent clear - Dinner in one hour. Both of them nod, and Allan returns to the kitchen.

“Martin? May I ask you something?” Lucas says, leaning in closer.

“Uh-huh.” Martin struggles to regain some semblance of coherent speech. 

“When I first arrived at the school, you were so distant, so cold to me. I heard all sorts of stories that the previous coach was a close friend of yours, that something tragic happened. Did you resent me for taking the job?”

Martin stiffens and pulls away from Lucas’s touch. He turns himself so that he faces Lucas. He had been so caught up inside his head; he never considered any other possibility. “no. “ he croaks, his voice raspy. He coughs into his fist and starts again.

“Before you arrived, the past school year, three of my best friends...we did a disastrous experiment with lots of alcohol. It ended tragically, but along the way, I lost and discovered things about myself, about my life. The way I was living. When I saw you, looking so much like a younger, more vibrant version of myself, I stayed away because I didn’t want to fall back into the destructive patterns of thinking.” 

“But it happened a bit anyway. I think maybe I was a little intimidated. My friends, Peter and Nikolaj, urged me to go to the football game. And I couldn’t take my eyes off the pitch. What you did was amazing with the team. Afterward, I wanted to congratulate you, talk to you. And then, by accident, I found you and Allan under the bleachers.” 

As if on cue, Allan calls from the kitchen, “I could use some help in here, please.”

“Let’s go help him before he sets a kitchen towel on fire,” says Lucas.

Martin horrified, jumps up, and heads into the kitchen, with Lucas chuckling all the way.

“I can hear you, you know,” says Allan as he slips a tray of garlic bread into the oven.

“What can I help with?” asks Martin.

“Setting the table, please? Lucas, would you uncork the wine?” 

Lucas pulls the bottle of red wine out of the shopping bag and sees a flicker of concern cross Martin’s face. “Allan deliberately brought one of the smaller bottles of a nice Tuscan red wine. Just enough for two glasses each. Will that be acceptable, Martin?”

“Sounds perfect. What are we having? “ Martin smiles and grabs plates out of the cupboard. 

“Lasagna but with a béchamel sauce instead of ricotta.”

“Do you have a salad bowl?”

By now, Martin has finished setting the table. He reaches up, opens another cupboard door, and pulls out a large wooden bowl, handing it to Lucas. Lucas pulls a container of washed greens and a jar of salad dressing out of the shopping bag. Lucas empties the greens into the bowl and shakes the jar enthusiastically before dressing the salad. 

Lucas sets the salad bowl on the kitchen table, and both of them take their seats while Allan finishes his preparations. Allan opens the oven and removes the bubbling pan of Lasagna, setting it on the stove. Allan pulls out the garlic bread, placing it on a trivet, and shuts off the oven. Martin has placed two thick towels on the kitchen table in lieu of a trivet, and Allan carries the Lasagna over, setting it on them. While Allan slices the garlic bread, Lucas dishes out the meal. The smell of garlic, spaghetti sauce, and herbs fill the kitchen. Allan carries over the bread, and Martin pours the wine. 

“To good food, good times, and great friends,” toasts Allan. “Thank you for allowing us to cook for you and inviting us to your home.”

“It should be me that thanks you both. This is wonderful,” replies Martin. He hasn’t had a meal like this in months. 

The kitchen is quiet except for the clatter of utensils, quiet affirmations about the food, and the sound of eating for the next twenty minutes. By then, all of them have emptied their first glasses of wine, and Lucas pours the rest of it into their glasses. “May I tempt you with a bit more pasta, Martin?”

He gets a groan in response, “I should say no. I really should. But just a tiny spoonful, and I’ll take the heel of the bread that’s left.”

Allan sips at his wine, pleased that the meal has gone over so well. He’s never seen Martin eat so heartily before and it fills him with contentment at the sight of the emptied plates wiped clean. Martin insists that Allan sit at the kitchen table while he and Lucas tidy up. The lasagna is covered and placed in the refrigerator. Martin fills the sink with hot soapy water, and the two of them make quick work of cleaning up. 

All three of them move to the sofa in the living room. Lucas chooses one of the corners and Martin the other with Allan in the middle. “I don’t think I can move,” Lucas groans and holds his hand across his stomach.

“Greedy,” murmurs Allan, looking at Lucas fondly, reaching out to cup Lucas’s cheek, and then moving in closer for a gentle kiss. Lucas is unable to stop from making a soft noise at Allan’s touch. Martin wipes a hand across his mouth and looks away, his cheeks flushing. Allan breaks off the kiss and moves toward Martin, placing his hand on Martin’s forearm, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the skin. 

“Martin, don’t look away.” 

Martin’s gaze flickers at Allan, but he looks longest at Lucas, who is resting his head against the back of the sofa, his eyes unreadable in the darkening room. 

“Lucas would like it if you kissed him. Why don’t you, Martin?” suggests Allan.

Martin gasps at the suggestion and watches as Lucas reaches out a hand, fingers extended and waggling an invitation for him to come nearer.

Allan stands up, no longer in the way between them. Martin hesitates for a moment and reaches out so that the tips of his fingers touch Lucas’s. Lucas moves closer to clasp Martin’s hand properly while gently pulling him closer to his side of the couch. 

Martin's vaguely aware of Allan moving in his peripheral vision but not interested enough to pay him any mind. All his attention is focused on Lucas.

“Kiss me, Martin,” whispers Lucas.

Perhaps it’s the wine that gives Martin the confidence to lean forward and brush his lips against Lucas’. But, deep down, Martin knows the wine is just an excuse. He’s been mesmerized by Lucas since he first met him. Any reasons he’s given for his reticence, for his aloofness are lies he’s told himself, unable to face the truth. He’s always wanted this.

Martin touches Lucas’s lips hesitantly, jerking back a little as if he’s startled at his boldness. Lucas gasps at the contact. It’s the final permission that Martin needs as he kisses him in earnest, his lips warm and soft against Lucas’s lower one.

As the kiss breaks, Lucas murmurs, “I think you’ve wanted to do that for a long time. I know I have.” Overcome, Martin presses his forehead against Lucas’s neck and allows Lucas to rub his shoulder. Lucas looks at Allan over Martin’s hunched body and nods. 

“May I?” Martin pulls back, but his face is still downcast, overcome by his shyness. 

“What would you like, Martin?” Lucas presses a finger under Martin’s chin and moves it upward so he can see his face. 

“Would you let me kiss you again?”

“Martin, of course.” 

Martin smiles before closing the space between them. Lucas reaches up, grips Martin’s hair at the back of his head, and tilts his face to deepen the kiss. But it’s Martin who overcomes his hesitation and slips his tongue into Lucas’s mouth. The kiss sends Martin’s heart somersaulting inside his chest like nothing before. Lucas moans into the kiss. 

Allan murmurs into Martin’s ear, “So sexy! Do you have a kiss for me also?”

Martin startles at Allan’s voice but quickly recovers, looking over his right shoulder at the man behind him. “Oh, Allan,” Martin whispers as he shifts, turns toward him, into his waiting arms. He enfolds him in an embrace, slipping his arms around Allan’s back. Martin nuzzles his face against Allan’s neck. His exhaled breath tickles Allan and Martin feels him shiver. 

Martin wants to reassure the man in his arms. “Allan, please never think I did not desire you as well. I’m more comfortable around Lucas; same profession, after all. But I’ve gotten to know you these last few months. You’ve been wonderful to me.” He feels Allan relax against him, hears him utter a sigh. He captures Allan’s earlobe between his teeth and tugs on it gently, listens to Allan moan, hears it change into a husky growl. 

“Lucas wants you.”

Martin lets go of Allan and turns back to Lucas, seeing him splayed out on the couch, patting his thigh and giving him a flirty smile. He straddles Lucas, feels his hands on his arms while he gets settled before they drop down to grip his hip bones, pulling him closer. 

“What do you want, Martin?” asks Lucas, nipping at Martin’s jawline. “Have you had enough?”

Martin lets out a shaky laugh at the thought that he could possibly be satisfied at this stage of the evening. “No! Please,” he can’t help the whimper that escapes him as Lucas’s fingers rub his hip bones. He wriggles and hears both of them chuckle. 

“I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me,” croons Lucas before sucking a bruise over Martin’s pulse point. 

“I want...everything. Both of you.”

While Lucas marks Martin’s throat, Martin feels Allan’s hands come around him, stroking up and down along his abdomen, his flanks. Allan bites him at the back of his neck, not breaking the skin or leaving a mark, but it’s erotic all the same. Caught between the two of them, Martin feels himself surrounded, secure in expressing his fantasies, drowning in their desire for him.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom? It'll be more comfortable,” asks Allan. Martin can only nod in agreement. Allan stands up and helps Martin to rise from the couch. Martin holds his hand out to Lucas and pulls him upright. 

The three of them embrace, unwilling for the moment to let go of each other, until Allan coughs and asks, “Which room, Martin? It wasn’t on the tour.” Martin flushes and hears Allan chuckle as he leads them back through the kitchen into the hallway at the back of the house. 

“Through here,” says Martin. The master bedroom is nearly as empty as the rest of the house is, and both men embrace Martin again, holding him between them. He doesn't feel alone anymore; their mutual desire makes him feel loved, significant, wanted.

“We can just cuddle, Martin, if that’s what you really want?” asks Allan.

“Cuddles afterward.” It’s emphatic, an unspoken command. 

All of them smile at the same time as they release him. Martin walks to the door, closing it, and a force of habit makes him lock it. He laughs as the incongruousness of it hits him, and he moves to unlock it when he hears Lucas say, “Forget it. We need you, Martin.”

Martin turns and looks at both men.  _ In my bedroom. Both wanting me.  _ It’s a heady realization and sets his nerves to fizzing like a newly opened bottle of Champagne. He tries his best to reign in his giddiness and suddenly decides, to hell with it, 

Allan and Lucas hold out their arms to him. “Please, Martin.”

It’s Allan’s plea that makes him move, rushes him exuberantly into their arms, knocking them onto the bed. All three laugh as limbs entwine, lips seek out any available skin, and fingers pluck at hems and buttons. 

“Let us, Martin. There’s no rush,” says Lucas.

“I don’t think I can wait,” confesses Martin.

“You don’t have to. How long has it been? With a man?” asks Allan, his fingers stroking Martin’s cheekbone.

Martin shakes his head. He’s got no personal reference for this. 

“All the more reason to let us. Lie back, darling,” coos Allan. “If something hurts or if you don’t like something, tell us.”

Martin lets out a shaky exhale, replying, “Okay.” He can’t quite believe what’s happening to him. It’s as if he’s submerged in an oasis lake after a long desert drought. He  _ wants _ so much and has a fleeting flicker of anger at himself for waiting so long. He could have had all this back at the football pitch; he remembers Allan’s invitation, Lucas’s face, and closes his eyes. 

As if reading his mind, Allan says, “Stay with us here, Martin. Don’t go in your head. We’re here, real. This is happening. Stay with us.”

Martin grunts and opens his eyes to see both men looking at him with so much tenderness. Tears prick the corners of his eyes. He’s been so lonely these past few months, except for these two. His throat hurts with his unspoken emotions. 

“Please! It’s too. I can’t.” babbles Martin.

“Shhhh. It’s all right,” says Lucas. 

Lucas slides his forefinger under Martin’s chin, angling his face toward him. Lucas gives Martin a bright smile and moves closer to begin to lick into his mouth, slow and sensual, as Allan busies himself with Martin’s buttons, belt, and zipper. Martin allows himself to be stripped, manhandled by Allan as long as he can bask in Lucas’s attention for the moment. Lucas tracks a trail of kisses from Martin’s mouth, along his jaw, and up to his earlobe, where Lucas teases Martin until he laughs and wriggles. 

“Ticklish?”

Martin whines and tries to pull away, but Lucas has him caught fast in his arms. 

“I take it, that's a yes. Where else are you ticklish, hmm?” murmurs Allan.

Lucas rolls on his back, pulling Martin with him, allowing Allan to extricate Martin’s arms from his sleeves and pull off his shirt and trousers. Martin feels a chill on his newly-exposed skin and shivers, but Allan’s ardent caresses chase the feeling away. “Passion’s good, Martin. Gets the blood pumping. Let’s warm you up,” murmurs Allan. 

The statement pulls a filthy, obscene noise from Martin and a dangerous, low rumble of a laugh from Allan. And by god, does Martin want to feel passion. Allan’s comment is exciting, illicit. Martin’s head is spinning at the unspoken implications. He wonders what’s in store for him but trusts both men to take care of him. 

Martin shuts off his ruminations, comes back to himself, and realizes he’s naked except for his boxers. Allan takes the advantage given and slips his hand up under the lower edge of Martin’s boxers, along the outer edge of Martin’s thigh, moving upward toward his hip. Martin groans at his touch as Lucas bends Martin’s neck back to paint it with kisses and licks. Martin tries to separate the kisses, teasing touches from both men, but it’s too much sensation for him to be able to process. He whimpers in frustration.

Lucas reaches out and places a hand on Allan’s arm, the one Allan’s stroking Martin with, shaking his head no. He says, “Allan will slow down. He simply couldn’t wait to see you, darling. We’ve both been waiting such a long time for this.”

Allan slides his hand out of Martin’s boxers and clasps his arms around Martin’s chest instead, pulling him closer to him. Allan ruts against Martin’s body and enjoys the tiny “ah-ah’s” Martin makes in response. 

Allan chuckles and growls in Martin’s ear. “You like that, huh? Feel what you do to me?” as he rubs his thickening cock against Martin’s ass. Martin turns his head toward Allan, searching for his lips, frantic for a kiss. 

Allan isn’t gentle like Lucas. His kiss is all possessive, demanding and Martin loves it. He grunts and sighs, grabbing onto Allan wherever he can reach. Lucas pulls away and allows Allan to take his place. He arches against Martin rocking his hips to press their groins together. 

Martin’s response is startled, instantaneous. “Fuck! Oh, yes. Fuck me.”

“As you wish, Martin.” Allan seizes Martin’s hips, holding him in place and continuing to grind up against him. 

Martin’s reeling. The sensations are new and keenly masculine, from the faint stubble of Allan’s cheek scratching against his neck to the feel of corded muscle where Martin has only ever experienced a woman’s softness, to the heady sensation of another man’s cock pressed hot and hard, rubbing against his own in a maddening rhythm. All he wants to do is grab Allan and hang on. It’s like he’s on a roller coaster, his stomach dipping and his brain short-circuiting. Martin’s hands flutter up to grip Allan’s shoulders, and he gasps with a sigh that goes straight to Allan’s cock. He looks over Allan’s shoulder to see Lucas standing there smiling and palming himself, watching both of them grind away. 

Martin has never thought himself a voyeur or an exhibitionist before. Seeing Lucas’s reaction ignites a fire inside of him. He spreads his legs further apart, watches Lucas nod in agreement, and feels Allan change his tempo and movement, now rubbing teasingly from side to side on him. Martin feels dirty, sexy, and so wicked, but it’s nothing to how wanton he feels at what happens next. 

Lucas, still smiling and looking directly at Martin, begins to unbutton his shirt, taking his time, exposing more and more skin. There is not a shred of modesty or insecurity to Lucas’s actions, simply a quiet confidence. Martin’s gaze roams greedily over every inch of exposed flesh, and he licks his lips as if wanting to taste Lucas’s skin. 

“Like what you see?” hums Allan. 

His question pulls Martin’s attention back to the man on top of him. “He is the most fucking beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my entire life, my Lucas,” says Allan as if daring anyone to gainsay him.

Martin can only grunt in agreement as Allan begins to wriggle in renewed interest against his rapidly hardening cock. A movement in his peripheral vision pulls his attention back to Lucas, who gracefully, effortlessly, rolls his shoulders, one after the other, and shucks off his shirt. Allan chuckles at the sound Martin makes, grabbing his hips tighter and noses at Martin’s visible pulse point in his throat, tonguing it and nipping with his fangs. 

All Martin can do is look over Allan’s shoulder and drink in Lucas’s defined collarbones, his thicket of salt-and-pepper hair covering his well-defined pectorals. His gaze drops to the thin line of darkening hair leading downward past Lucas’s abdomen and into his waistband. 

‘You tremble so very beautifully, Martin. What will you do when we are inside you, I wonder?” 

Martin gasps and whines at the filthy thought that pops into his head.  _ Allan is so naughty. Winding me up.  _

“He’s such a  _ tease _ , my Allan, isn’t he, Martin?”

“Yes!” hisses Martin.

“You love it when I tease you, kæreste.” 

“That I do,” 

Martin swallows audibly as Lucas unbuckles and unzips himself, the clink of his belt buckle and subsequent purr of the zipper loud in the room. Lucas hooks his thumbs around the waistband of both his pants and underwear ( _ grey boxers _ Martin notices) and pushes them down in one swift move to pool about his ankles. 

Watching Martin intensely, Allan stills his movements as Martin’s gaze slides slowly, sensually down Lucas’s body, his lips parting with a rough exhale as he takes in the sight of Lucas bare and willing. Lucas is much bigger than he expected. His cock hangs full and heavy against his muscular thigh, not completely hard but definitely interested, thickening as Martin feasts his eyes on the sight.

“Lucas,” mewls Martin, too overcome to say more.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Lucas climbs onto the bed, murmuring, “Kæreste, kiss me.” Allan turns as he feels the bed dip. Allan rolls off Martin and pins Lucas to the bed, capturing his plush lips in an ardent kiss, their tongues sliding together in a passionate lewd display.

Lucas slips his fingers under Allan’s t-shirt and pulls it up. Allan breaks the kiss and allows Lucas to pull the shirt over Allan’s head before tossing it to the side of the bed. Allan pops the button on his jeans, and Lucas bats his hand away. “Let me. You’re mine,” growls Lucas.

The purr of the zipper is loud in the room, and Lucas’s laugh is booming. “Oh, you adorable minx. You’ve gone Commando mode,” chuckles Lucas grabbing the jeans and pushing them down, baring Allan entirely. Lucas nearly leaps on Allan, grabbing him close for another filthy kiss.

Martin is transfixed, unaware he’s made a sound. 

Suddenly, Allan breaks off the kiss, a line of saliva stretching and breaking between two sets of lips. In an echo of Allan’s initial comment to Martin from under the bleachers, Allan gives Martin a wolfish grin and asks, “Wanna join?” 

“Helvede!” cries Martin, scrambling to reach them both. 

“Easy, Martin,” cautions Allan. “Why don’t you let Lucas have you first?”

Martin looks from one to the other as if he’s unable to believe what he’s heard. 

“We need to hear you, Martin,” says Lucas.

“Please! Love me. I want you both,” stammers Martin.

Allan and Lucas beam radiant smiles at Martin. “I’m going to undress you. Allan will get you ready. I’m going to sit up against the headboard. You’ll be on top of me. Sound good?” explains Lucas. Martin nods enthusiastically.

‘On your side, facing Lucas,” instructs Allan. “Do you have lubricant, sweetling?”

Martin flushes, “Bedside table. In the drawer.” 

“Allan is going to make you so wet,” promises Lucas. “Now, let’s see you,” Lucas says as he hooks his fingers in Martin’s tented boxers, his thumbs barely brushing against his erection. Martin moans and arches at his touch as Lucas peels off his dark grey boxer briefs.

“Beautiful,” croons Allan in Martin’s ear, looking over his shoulder at Martin’s exposed cock. Allan pulls back and rubs his fingertips down either side of Martin’s spine all the way down to the divot in his back, repeating the motion over and over, getting him used to his touch.

Lucas admires Martin’s engorged cock. It’s not completely hard just yet but still lovely. He slides his index finger along the underside from root to just below the head and listens to Martin hiss. Lucas observes the slightly red swollen tip with most of Martin’s foreskin still covering the glans. He reaches out, touches it, and notices how heavy it is in his hand, how hot. Lucas savors the slide of Martin’s foreskin as he strokes him slowly, watching his slit gape just the tiniest bit, listens to Martin’s keening cries, his panting breath. 

Allan asks, “Are you always this loud, you gorgeous man?” 

“N-no.”

“Perfect,” purrs Allan before palming Martin’s pert ass, squeezing a globe in each hand, spreading his cheeks, leaning over, and audibly spitting on Martin’s entrance.

“Ah!” cries Martin, more from the surprise than anything.

“I told you he was going to make you wet,” reminds Lucas. “Give me a sign, Allan, just before,” murmurs Lucas. Allan reaches around with one hand and squeezes Lucas’s thigh.

Lucas runs his hands over Martin’s chest, flanks, and abdomen, concentration clear on the man’s face, rarely dipping below Martin’s hips and watching him writhe. “Be still, Martin. No wriggling. Good. Very good.”

Martin hears the snick of the cap, then the squelch of the lubricant and slick noises of skin on skin. Allan reaches forward to press a single slick finger against Martin’s entrance and circles around and around over Martin’s rim, pressing with the pad of his finger. Martin gasps, the sensation completely alien and enticing, his breath speeding up as Allan continues caressing him, never applying quite enough pressure to breach him, leaving Martin shivering with desire, his muscle fluttering at Allan’s touch.

Lucas sees the tiniest bead of moisture at the tip of Martin’s cock, gleaming like a jewel as it catches the light. Just then, Allan’s hand grips Lucas’s thigh tightly. Lucas leans forward to flick his tongue at Martin’s slit just as Allan breaches him. Lucas feels Martin grab for him, hears his tortured moan, and sucks his head gently into his mouth. 

Martin hears a slippery noise, an obscene dance of Allan’s fingers, sliding and slipping into and out of him, each time making him wetter, depositing more lubricant inside.

Martin is drowning in sensation, each touch building on the one before. Each man knows exactly how to excite him without Martin saying anything, asking for anything. Each caress is perfect. He lets go of all of his anxiety, his uncertainty, and doubt. All that’s left for him to do is trust, and he does implicitly. Trust that this experience will be perfect. Because how can it not? He never imagined this in his wildest fantasies, but now that it’s begun, he is eager to see where it leads. He feels so much affection for them both, gentle Lucas and impulsive Allan. Martin has no concept of time; his pleasure seems endless, a feedback loop of desire.

Lucas kisses him, nuzzles his nose, brings him back to the present, and he hears Allan say, “He’s ready for you, Lucas. Aren’t you, Martin?” Allan slips his fingers out and Martin protests, whining at the sudden emptiness, wriggling, seeking renewed contact. “Shhhh. Lucas is right here. Waiting for you,” whispers Allan.

Somehow, in Martin’s pleasured haze, Lucas has moved, so he’s sitting up, his back against the headboard. Allan helps Martin to shift position, so he’s now straddling Lucas. 

“Let Allan help you,” murmurs Lucas as Allan grasps Lucas’s straining cock, positioning it at Martin’s slick hole, glistening and twitching. 

Allan guides Martin downward, cautioning, “Slowly, Martin. That’s it.” Lucas has barely breached Martin, but he pulls out and allows Allan to spread more lubricant over his swollen glans. Lucas slips only the tip of his cockhead inside before withdrawing it. Over and over. Careful, cautious, but insistent.

Lucas is watching Martin’s face intently, looking for any sign of discomfort. He sees Martin grimace and holds up his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Are you all right, Martin?” asks Allan. 

“Stings,” Martin hisses.

“I know, sweetling. It will get better.” Allan pets him, runs his hands over his thighs, teases his balls and cock, hears Martin groan. Lucas is large, spreading Martin apart. Lucas slips further inside, another half inch. In response, Martin pants, in short, delicate breaths while his body trembles, and he bares his teeth as he feels Lucas pull out and then push back into him. 

“You are doing so well, Martin. Taking Lucas deep inside.” Martin huffs at the praise, smiling at Lucas first and then Allan.

Allan leans forward and flicks his tongue against Martin’s lips. In his eagerness. Martin moans, opening himself to Allan, and relaxes. Lucas slides in, deeper into Martin’s wet heat. “Feels so good,” whines Lucas.

Allan coats his fingers with more lubricant and strokes Martin’s rim, right where Lucas is pushing inside him. Martin wails at the sensation and his body shivers, clenches around Lucas’s cock, He’s not sure if he can feel Lucas throbbing deep inside him, but it feels wonderful. “More, please!”

Allan smiles and kisses Martin’s shoulder and teases both Lucas’s stiff cock and Martin’s rim. Both of them curse extravagantly at his touch, and Allan grins in response. 

“I told you he was wicked,” chuckles Lucas.

“Yes, he is!” laughs Martin. He feels Lucas slip in deeper, thinks he feels every muscle, every vein of Lucas’s cock. He burns but trusts both of them to make him feel good. Even now, it’s so much more intense than he ever imagined. He shudders and feels Allan run his hands over his back, his thighs, arms, and abdomen, hears him whisper, “When Lucas fucked me for the first time, I thought I could feel him in my throat. That’s how big he felt inside me. He loves to tease me for hours. Would you like us to do that to you, Martin? Tease you over and over?” 

Lucas’s cockhead brushes against a sensitive spot inside of Martin, nudges it and slides past it. Martin shivers from head to toe, his hands grab onto Allan’s arms, and his fingers dig in, his head thrown back, vocalizing, “Oh, oh, oh!”

Allan gives Lucas a wicked grin over Martin’s shoulder before purring in Martin’s ear, “That looked like it was delicious.” Martin moans, his head drops forward, and he notices Lucas smiling broadly at him. 

“Again!” cries Martin.

Allan moves behind Martin, grasping his hips and gently raises him before pulling him down as Lucas holds himself still. “Fuck!” Martin sags against Allan, who enfolds him in his arms, running his hands up and down his arms and shoulders. 

“I told you Lucas was talented. Do you want more?”

“Please, please!” begs Martin, as he turns his head to the side frantically, seeking a kiss from Allan. As they kiss, Lucas buries himself to the hilt and lets out a guttural moan. 

Martin mewls, his body clutching at Lucas, all-encompassing, gripping like a vice, wet velvet heat. He pants and moans, shaking his head from side to side. The tip of his cock leaks slowly, tiny pulses of fluid. 

“Martin, are you all right?” asks Lucas, wanting to  _ move _ but needing to make sure the man above him is well.

“Yes. Can-can you touch me inside? Like you did? Please?”

“Absolutely. Allan will help if you need it. You control this, Martin. How deep I go. How fast you move. How slow. It’s all about you.”

Martin groans at the obscene thoughts that pop into his head during Lucas’s explanation. He had an assumption that he was going to be passive during this lovemaking. He’s surprised at how wrong he was. He can’t believe how powerful he feels right now, how desired. It’s intoxicating, and he’s more grateful to Lucas and Allan than he can articulate for giving him this gift. 

He looks at Lucas and sees how flushed he is, the tips of his ears, his face across his cheekbones, down his neck and spreading into his chest. Martin wonders if he touches him if Lucas would feel warm like a banked wood fire or hot like a flame. He reaches out and places a hand over Lucas’s chest, right over his heart. He can feel it pounding under his hand. Lucas’s skin is warm. He can smell Lucas’s sweat and his musk mingled with his aftershave. 

“Please, Martin. Move,” begs Lucas, sounding needy and desperate.

It’s all it takes to spur Martin into action. Allan grips him by the hips as he raises himself upward, seeking that sweet spot. He’s afraid that Lucas will slip out, fearful of making a mistake. Some look, a concern must have drifted across his face, shown in his eyes. Allan is right there, “He won’t slip out, Martin. You should see how tight you are around him.“

Reassured, Martin begins to move in earnest, each thrust downward more assured, more confident, until he’s rocking himself on Lucas’s huge cock. “Try like this, Martin,” suggests Allan moving Martin’s hips in a circle. 

“Fucking perfect!” growls Lucas and clasps both of Martin’s thighs. 

Martin moves his body in quick circles, but it’s not enough, Lucas’s cock not quite  _ there _ . He shifts and wriggles, finding that sweet spot, then changes his movements to go slower, deeper, making them both gasp. Martin is panting and whimpering, but his face holds nothing but joy. Martin’s cock is dripping continuously, and Allan asks, “Close?”

All Martin can do is nod and pant.

Allan encircles Martin’s cockhead with two fingers and his thumb and begins to jerk him off. All it takes is a half-dozen strokes, and Martin is wailing, his interior walls clenching Lucas’s cock so tightly. After his orgasm, Martin sways, slumps bonelessly backward while Allan catches him in his arms.

“On his back.” pants Lucas slipping out, his cock an angry shade of red.

Allan lays Martin down on the bed, and Lucas spreads Martin’s legs, slipping himself back in. Lucas’s thrusts are precise and rather brutal, each one hitting his prostate. Martin is crying now, groaning, overstimulated, exhausted. All he can do now is take Lucas’s punishing thrusts. Lucas grunts on each push inward as he slams against Martin’s ass. The wet, filthy sound is arousing mixed with Martin’s whimpers and Lucas’s moans. Lucas thrusts deep one last time, grabbing Martin’s thighs, and holds himself still, crying out, as he finally orgasms. Both trembles with aftershocks as Lucas continues to thrust deep into Martin's body until he slumps over Martin, panting hard, gulping for breath. 

Martin lies under him, a beatific smile on his face. Martin’s chest is heaving, and his stomach is painted with his release. Allan runs his hands over both men, checking their pulse rate and gentling them, nuzzling against shoulders, necks. 

Lucas grins, as if proud of himself, chuckling softly, “Well, Martin, how was that? How was I?”

Martin blinks and reaches up to cup Lucas’s cheek, his hand falling to Lucas’s neck, where he strokes his sweaty skin. “Wonderful, beautiful.”

“Thank you. You still have Allan here, who’s been so patient.” Lucas kisses Allan’s cheekbone as Allan moves in closer, with handfuls of tissues to wipe both men clean.

Martin groans, a wrecked sound. 

“As much as I’d love to be inside of him, I don’t think Martin would enjoy it. We need to work on his stamina.”

“Agreed. But, there are other opportunities, other ways he can take you inside.”

Allan growls, an impatient sound as Lucas slips free of Martin. Having been so aroused, cock obviously hard and leaking throughout, Allan moves to lie on his back, his cock bobbing up and down in anticipation. Allan wants to make sure he sees everything Martin does and moves his arms so that he’s propped himself up on his elbows.

“Martin, it’s your turn. Would you like to take Allan in your mouth?” 

Martin nods, but his stomach feels full of butterflies. He pushes away the nervousness, thinking,  _ You can do this! Both of them have been so kind to you, so careful.  _ He moves so that he’s in between Allan’s spread legs; he’s a bit dazzled at the sight before him. Allan’s cock isn’t as big as Lucas’s, but it’s still impressive. The head is wet, the foreskin pulled back, and the slit gapes slightly. 

Lucas kneels next to Martin, saying, “Look at me, Martin.” Lucas cups Martin’s cheek and rubs his thumb over his zygomatic arch. “I know you’ll make him feel so good. You don’t have to take all of him at first. Hold him gently in your hand and try licking his head?” Lucas releases Martin’s cheek, and his hand drifts down to stroke Martin’s shoulders and upper back. 

Martin swallows, nods, and does as Lucas suggests, giving Allan’s cock several small kitten licks. Allan tastes salty, a little bitter, not any worse than a radicchio salad. He hears Allan swear as the tip of his tongue touches his glans. He smiles at the sound, becoming more confident, more relaxed. He sweeps his tongue over Allan’s slit, teasing his foreskin, and watches Allan shiver and moan. Martin parts his lips more, sliding them with deliberate slowness in a tight ring around the head of Allan's cock.

“You’re doing so well, Martin,” purrs Lucas. “Why don’t you stroke him where your mouth can’t reach?” 

Allan’s moaning now, laid back completely flat, hands clutching the sheet below him. “Kæreste,” 

Lucas leaves Martin with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder and lies down on the bed next to Allan. “I’m here, min skat. Martin is taking such good care of you.” Lucas leans over, slides one hand under Allan’s neck to cup the back of his head tenderly, and kisses his angular jaw, the corner of his mouth before sucking Allan’s plush bottom lip between his teeth. With his other hand, Lucas traces a line with his fingers from Allan’s collarbone, down his sternum, before sweeping over to capture Allan’s nipple between his fingers. Plucking at it, teasing and tormenting the man next to him. 

The noises Allan makes get lower, more gravelly, and Lucas breaks the kiss to say huskily in the shell of Allan’s ear. “You’re so excited. I love to see you this way.” His voice picks up in volume, and Lucas asks, “Martin, do you like seeing Allan like this? Are you enjoying pleasuring him?”

Martin can’t believe the suggestive question. He’s not about to take his mouth off of Allan’s thick leaking cock, though, and so he hums an “uh-huh” noise in reply to Lucas. Allan wails and shudders in response, which gives Martin a very naughty idea. He flutters his tongue along the underside of Allan’s cock and feels him shift, spreading his legs further apart, listens to him pant. 

Martin slides his mouth further down and  _ sucks _ , hollowing his cheeks. 

“Fuck! Goddamit! Martin, don’t stop. Fuck!” cries Allan. 

Lucas watches Allan’s pulse rabbiting in his neck. Lucas nuzzles him, licks his sweat, and nibbles his reddened ear, and Allan groans, his voice dropping.

At the noise, Martin raises his eyes to look up from concentrating solely on Allan’s cock. If he strains his eyes, he can see the flush on Allan’s abdomen. He hopes that he will get to do this again, be with both men again. He wants to see much more of them both and see more of Allan, especially now. 

Martin loves this, to be the one to take apart confident Allan, to see him soft and vulnerable. One surprising, unexpected thing he’s discovered is Allan’s smell. Martin didn’t think about this when he agreed to suck Allan off. He was more concerned with the mechanics of it all. At first, Allan’s scent was musky, not unpleasant but a presence. As Martin’s been tasting him, Allan’s scent has become headier, sweatier, intoxicating, altogether delicious. Martin wants to pull Allan’s legs apart and nuzzle him when his thighs meet his groin, wants to sniff around his balls, drown in his scent. He won’t, though, not now. Martin is enjoying having Allan’s cock in his mouth too much to stop. He loves sliding his tongue around Allan’s shaft, teasing him. 

Martin wants to feel Allan coming apart underneath him, needs to feel him in other ways. He reaches up with one hand, the one that’s been teasing Allan’s shaft. He rubs his fingers through Allan’s thicket of hair around his cock, and the movement of his fingers releases Allan’s scent; it’s more pungent, virile, like a punch to Martin’s nose. The scent goes straight up to his brain and down to Martin’s cock, which twitches once.

Martin needs  _ more.  _ He continues to reach upward. He follows the trail of hair from Allan’s pubes up his abdomen and feels his muscles fluttering and twitching under his fingers. Matin splays out his hand to touch as wide an area as possible. It feels like he’s cupping a hummingbird in flight, something delicate but capable of so much, the stamina to fly hundreds of miles. 

At Martin’s touch, Allan’s cries become more high pitched and needy. Martin can hear Allan gasping for breath, hear his moans. Suddenly, Allan grasps Martin’s hand, the one on his abdomen. Allan clutches it like a lifeline, squeezing it gently, his fingers trembling.

“Please!” wails Allan. 

Martin strokes Allan’s hand tenderly, extricating himself, and moves his hand sideways, out to Allan’s hip and moves it down, down the middle of Allan’s thigh. He feels the long muscles in Allan’s thighs twitching. Martin, again, feels a sense of power, like he did when he was riding Lucas. He redoubles his efforts with his mouth, his tongue, so careful with his teeth. 

“Martin, Allan’s so close. He’s going to come very soon,” says Lucas in a low voice.

Martin understands the choice he’s being given, appreciates the courtesy. There is no way he’s stopping now. He needs this as much as the shuddering man underneath him does. He speeds up his strokes and tries to take as much of Allan’s cock in his mouth as possible. His eyes tearing, he makes a small gagging sound, and that, coupled with his wet, warm mouth, sends Allan over the edge. The first spurt of come hits the back of Martin’s throat, and he swallows it down, happy and eager, moaning in delight. Martin continues to suck at Allan, petting him, forcing him through each tumultuous wave of orgasm.

Martin pulls off carefully, allowing Allan’s softening cock to slip from his mouth, and watches Allan shake, overwhelmed, clasped in Lucas’s arms.  _ It’s beautiful _ , thinks Martin, very pleased with himself. He moves out from between Allan’s legs and lies next to him. Lucas continues to murmur endearments in Allan’s ear and coaxes him to roll over and face Martin.

“Sorry, I’m still a bit overwhelmed, Martin. Thank you. You have such a wicked mouth,” says Allan, pulling Martin to him, covering his face with kisses. 

Martin feels a burst of pride at Allan’s comment and slips his tongue deep inside Allan’s mouth, both of them moaning. 

“Martin, do you want to be in the middle?” asks Lucas and sits up, pulling the bedcovers higher, covering all three men.

“Yes, I do!” cries Martin.

Allan and Lucas make room for him in the middle. He pulls the covers higher and wriggles against both men. Allan chuckles and pins him down with a leg thrown over Martin’s. Lucas throws an arm over Martin’s chest and holds him in place.

“Did you like this, Martin? Would you be willing to do it again?” asks Allan quietly.

“Are you sore?” says Lucas, a shadow of concern crinkling his lovely forehead.

Martin puts his arms around both men, wanting nothing more than to cuddle and fall asleep in their arms. He’s so happy that there may be other opportunities like this, other possibilities.

“I enjoyed this, both of you very much. Yes, I want to explore this with both of you. I think I will get better with practice, don’t you?’ 

All of them chuckle. Martin looks at Lucas, “I’m a little bit sore, but it reminds me of how you were inside of me, how it felt, so it’s a good soreness. Thank you both so much for this wonderful afternoon and evening. What a beautiful gift you’ve given me.”

“You’re welcome, Martin. We think you’re a gift for us also.” purrs Lucas.

“Less talk, more napping,” mumbles Allan, snuggling down, nuzzling against Martin.

No one can find any fault with this, and soon, all three of them are drifting toward sleep, happy and sated. 

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Helvede = hell
> 
> Kæreste = sweetheart
> 
> Min Skat = my treasure


End file.
